


If You Close Your Eyes (does it almost feel like you've been here before?)

by Abbie



Series: Leave Out All the Rest [7]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Amnesia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thea takes Oliver to Verdant to help bridge the gap in what he remembers and who he became and forgot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Close Your Eyes (does it almost feel like you've been here before?)

Oliver stared around the large space, his boots echoing on the empty dance floor into the exposed girders of the warehouse ceiling. The raw, unfinished feeling was deliberate, he knew, the pipes overhead and the catwalks visible just under the lighting giving a gritty sense of daring mystery to the place. It lent a luxury-swaddled edge to the cool, classy atmosphere of the club’s interior.

"So all of this is mine? I own this?" Oliver couldn’t help the slow grin taking over his face as he dropped his chin back down to look at Thea, who stood with her hands on her hips, loosely curled hair framing her face as she tilted her head at him. "This is my club?"

"Well," she smiled, one shoulder shrugging laconically, " _was_ your club.” Her  smirk widened to a proud, smug grin. “Mine, now.”

Oliver pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her. “That is not what you said on the way over here, Speedy.”

She waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Okay, sure, your name’s still on all the paperwork, but that’s just bureaucracy. Yeah, you bought the place and got it started, but this was never really your baby, Ollie.” Shrugging, she turned and ran her eyes around the room, a pleased, proprietary look in her eyes. “It was Tommy’s first, but you guys had a bit of a _thing_ and he opted out. But he pulled it all together, the design, the image, the promotion. You didn’t do a hell of a lot more than name the place. And then you went screwing around in Europe after the whole Glades incident, and I needed something to do.” She looked back to him, coolly, no judgement or censure in her gaze. “And now it’s mine.”

Oliver frowned a little. “So… I started a club, and didn’t really do anything. And now it’s basically everyone else’s success story.” He snorted, mouth twisting wryly. “Well, that sounds like me. Maybe I didn’t change as much as everybody thought after all.”

Thea sighed and shook her head. “Oh, stop it. You had other stuff going on.” She rolled her eyes again, and he was seeing his gawky 12 year old kid sister all over again. “Not that you bothered to tell anybody what that was. I mean, you told Tommy, but I think that’s what you guys were fighting about. And obviously Felicity and Mr. Diggle.” She cut him a look that was a little more sympathetic. “And it’s not like you’re never involved here. You help. And you had some secret project going on in the basement, and you _still_ don’t let me down there.” She made a face at him, like he was just her big brother hanging a “no kid sisters allowed” sign on his club house. “Which, whatever, it’s not like I _need the storage space for my business_ or anything.”

The aforementioned Mr. Diggle strode up to them at that point, an amused smirk on his lips. “Don’t let her rag you too hard. You contracted extra storage to be built onto the club so she wasn’t inconvenienced.” He waggled his eyebrows at Thea, who stuck her tongue out at him for tattling on her. “And she finagled a kitchen upgrade out of you while you were at it.”

Thea tossed her hands into the air and let them drop noisily. “What! That kitchen was _criminal_ , it was a _closet_ with a sink. We needed grills and industrial equipment and a walk-in refrigeration unit! Do you have any idea how much money we make on just bar food? Not to mention that we’re equipped now for big events and can rent out the space to people who want more food than catered canapes.”

Oliver blinked rapidly, eyebrows raising. “Wow. Thea, you are really good at this.”

She turned to him with a slow, surprised smile, genuinely looking flattered. “Thank you, Ollie. I mean, I kinda just picked it up to keep busy, but I really liked it.” She shrugged a little. “I _am_ good at this. It was nice to be good at something useful instead of just a screw-up, y’know?”

"Yeah," Oliver agreed, nodding, even as he privately thought he didn’t know what that was like, at all. He might’ve figured it out, but he’d clearly forgotten. For just a moment, he let a pang of jealousy hit him for his older self. Mostly the guy seemed like a fucked up drag, but for once… Oliver could kind of see maybe wanting to be this version of himself.

He’d never really had purpose before. And if starting a club, running secret basement projects, and stepping into the role of CEO told him anything, it was that somehow he must’ve found it.

He had to wonder if he’d like to find it again. If he was even capable of it without those five years on a deserted island.

"Anyways," Thea broke him from his thoughts with a gentle touch on his arm, smiling at him with a curious mix of fond sweetness and watchful reserve. "I need to get upstairs and spend a little time in the office giving my vendors hell." She smiled mischievously. "You’d think this would be the boring part of the job, but I kinda like putting them in their place when they think they can short me on booze orders."

Oliver chuckled, not really surprised. His little sister, always a ball of energy, had clearly grown into a hell of a spitfire. “Go give ‘em hell. I’m sure Mr. Diggle and I will find something to do with the rest of our day. Call if you need a ride later?”

She shook her head. “Nah, I’m doing dinner with my friend Sin. I’ll call a driver.” Pointing at him as she backed away, she raised her eyebrows imperiously. “Don’t give Mr. Diggle too much trouble!”

Diggle snorted beside him, and Oliver rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Turning to his generally disapproving bodyguard, Oliver summoned a charming smile and tilted his head. “So. Secretive project in the basement? What did I have down there?” He waggled his eyebrows, grin widening. “A porn dungeon?”

Diggle stared at him, blinking slowly. “You really think you’d keep a porn dungeon twelve feet below your kid sister’s office?” Diggle canted his head, massive shoulders rolling under his suit jacket as he clasped his wrists in front of him. He held Oliver’s gaze. “That seem to you like something you’d do?”

Oliver tried to hold the man’s unblinking, carefully blank stare, but he could feel the tips of his ears burning. After a protracted moment of silence, he sucked in a breath and blinked. “Okay, so, no sex dungeon. State of the art man cave?”

Diggle snorted and walked past him, towards the side door they’d entered through. “You’d better come on, Mr. Queen. You’ll be late for your lunch with Tommy.”

Oliver folded his lips contemplatively, cast one speculative look towards the employees-only hallway past the bar, and then reluctantly followed after Diggle.

He didn’t miss the way the bodyguard had neglected to answer Oliver’s question and then changed the subject. The question was whether he was just being an ass, or keeping secrets. And if he was keeping secrets, was he keeping them _from_ Oliver? Or for him?

One way or another, Oliver would eventually find out.

But for now, he had an appointment with his best friend—and a beer.


End file.
